#cirillach | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

angivarrrre · 10 months

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He didn’t even deign to reply. He passed her by unceremoniously and walked off along the avenue of statues.

‘Or you, perhaps?’ she yelled. ‘If you want I’ll give myself to you! Well?

Won’t you sacrifice yourself? I mean, they say I’ve got Lara’s eyes!’

He was in front of her in two paces. His hands shot towards her neck like snakes and squeezed like steel pincers. She understood that if he’d wanted to, he could have throttled her like a fledgling.

He let her go. He leaned over and looked into her eyes from close up.

#artists on tumblr #fanart #wiedzmin #witcher #elves #elf #witcher books #ciri #cirilla fiona elen riannon #cirillach #cirilla #avallac'h #aen elle #inspired by klimt #tir na lia #illustration #art

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xuelingxu · 4 months

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Happy New Year☺️

#ciri #avallac'h #cirillach #cirillac'h #the witcher 3 #happynewyear2024 #my edit

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cirimanga · 1 year

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#eredin bréacc glas #crevan espane aep caomhan macha #avallac'h #the witcher #caranthir #cirillach #ciredin #meme #elves #aen elle

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raivenreine · 6 months

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What Ava and Ciri would look like in real life 🥵

This was generated by Leonardo and given to me by one of Ava's fans and I LOOOVE IT! He looks so real and alive. I can't take my eyes off him. After 7 years in the Witcher fandom, I feel like I'm seeing him for the 1st time. He is so amazing 🤗😍❤️‍🔥

#avallach #cirillach #witcher 3 #leonardo ai

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fonsmortem · 1 year

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at first I rested, then tumblr did not allow me to post an art, giving an error :'D (silent cry)

I still feel not really fine, so I'll post new stuff little bit slowly 🥲

Here some of wip's of my 2d artヾ(＾-＾)ノ

#the witcher #ведьмак #witcher fanart #the witcher 2 #the witcher 3 #iorveth #ведьмак 3 #witcher ciri #cirillach #iorweth

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livingonmyown · 2 years

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From Enemies to Reluctant Allies...

Wonderful art @ysangre-fa 💖⚔️

...from Reluctant Allies to Friends...

Amazing art by @cirimanga 🥰🌼

...from Friends to Lovers.

Lovely art by @fonsmortem 🦊❤️🕊️

***

Thank you All for your creativity, passion and love for the characters!!! 💖💖 You are the best!!! ✨✨✨

#cirillach #avallac'h #ciri #ciri x avallac'h #beautiful art #witcher art #witcher 3 #thank you to the amazing artists

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darkellaine · 2 years

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Ciri & Avallac'h

In search of the White Frost

#ciri #avallac'h #cirillach #the witcher 3 #witcher wild hunt #artists on tumblr #digital art #darkellaine #my art

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craiteys · 1 year

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crush on you

#cirillac'h #cirillach #ciri x avallac'h #ciri #avallac'h #my edit #hbd livingonmyown! <3 #tw3

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fabulousprancingtrashstallion · 8 months

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Incorrect Witcher Quotes

Caranthir: You keep hugging Cirilla whenever she's upset. Next thing you know, she's gonna fall in love with you. Is that what you want?

Avallac'h: Is that what I want? Pfft.

Avallac'h: YES.

#incorrect witcher quotes #avallac'h #crevan espane aep caomhan macha #caranthir #ciri #cirillach #cirillac'h #cirilla fiona elen riannon #okay but this is kind of canon

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theravenandtheswallow · 2 years

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cirillac’h vibes in hotd

#cirillach #cirillac'h #ciri x avallac'h #my text #misc

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revoevokukil · 1 year

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Thirsty T̶h̶u̶r̶s̶d̶a̶y̶ Sunday

Give us an excerpt—WIP or finished (preferably sth. new:))—that tells of pleasure and sensuality. Romantic fluff and writings about the many other pleasures are greatly welcome, too!

I was tagged by @herbalina-of-yesteryear for this, and thank you, honestly, because I am terrible with keeping up with tag games and recently with keeping up in general. Tagging @lladmie in turn, who I know has new fandom loves & great taste! Also @aquakaris (you’re back!) if you like, and @alia-turin-writes (if you’re still around).

The following is a mash-up from finishing up Grapes. To see to which extent I can make rich language shield a nasty reality.

A whiff of sulphur hit her from the dark.

‘Take me in your mouth.’

As into warm wax his words sunk themselves, congealing her in goose bumps around their velvet and cutting her off from little fragments of thought that came to be with her: nervous, preparatory idlings that led nowhere and were largely very unimportant.

A little dirty. A little beautiful.

Touching tender lips against the soft, fleshy head, a kind of placidity swaddled her. Gently curling up her brain like wilted leaves. She spread her lips for him slowly, from a lingering, timid kiss into a widening o into which could sink the body of another. Shaking the girl wading uncharted in the amber with the gesture’s permissiveness and promise, and surprising her with the lack of flavour. Hollowing her cheeks in reflex Ciri brought in one pumping twitch a sudden lot of him into her mouth at once, and started.

She pulled back.

Left him resting on the rim of her lips.

‘Don’t be shy.’

A look – without looking.

‘It’s just us for now.’

With cheeks aglow, her pink tongue shyly sought contact. Vehemently at odds with the filthy, lurching vim that possessed her belly full of treats, gorging her over images in which she took the main role and was unafraid, licking sparkling sugar off the elves’ fingers. Making their riches part of her – her own! – and beautiful. Leaving them the wet stains! And leaving forever. Oh, she could be duplicitous too. She could –

‘Go on.’ He touched the top of her head and silenced the thoughts in the fragile skull. ‘Make a mess.’

Ciri swallowed him.

It was prosaic. Entirely unlike anything in the beautifully illustrated book.

Balancing on her knees to reach his lap and opening her mouth again and again in a fledgling’s muggy spread of lips, she quickly began feeling frightfully stuck. For she could not find her way back into the rigid dead end of thought where she could bury herself while her heart exploded. He let her feel it at length. Warm and truthful in her grip as the thick rain pulsing through the girl in hot torrents, soaking her from below, where silk stung barely-touched, to top, where she tried disappearing into the uneasy succour of filling her mouth with his cock.

Waiting for god knows what.

Thinking relentlessly how, despite dutifully coating him with her humiliating longing, the darkness she ate into no longer sated. Her determination was faltering by the moment she applied herself, because she did not really understand if the monotony of her cautious, searching movements was at all anything to him. Or merely a lesson for her? She didn’t want to let him down. She hoped. After he had shown her a little... only a little – Yet he was different. The stiffness of his thighs on either side of her told her that. And hearing told her even more: a terse tapping of beringed fingers against wood when she tried gently bobbing her head on him; exhalations, infrequent but heavy.

He is smoking, she thought fleetingly, sliding her tongue under his shaft. What can I do? She tried letting him in deeper. Moaned woefully. It felt uncomfortable and useless. What must I do?

He had told her to trust fate a little. Was she not trying? To please destiny? He neither discouraged nor encouraged her. He had left her after all: to seek her supplication by her lonesome; and there was the flavour of it – bitter and prickling in her throat.

Can he not feel for me, not even a little bit?

Kneeling up, Ciri took the elf gently in-between her palms and kissed the smooth head. Kissed him, in her imagination, as if in a prayer. As the elf woman would have, she hoped. Softly and with care. Imagining the press of his mouth on hers: his tongue, which now seemed much more violent in comparison. Imagined him driving her closer into the sensation of consuming and brushing gently under and around him with her tongue in gratitude. Wishing she could look at him. Wishing he would look at her and stroke her head, and ask her how she felt. Wishing –

A little bit. With your hands, your magic, your words...

Her panic, she believed, was under control and her disgust, as on other nights, was too inglorious to take seriously. Ashen hair settled in disarray over the girl’s face; she tried again to become full of him, only succeeding in bringing the prickling tears in her throat to her eyes.

It’s part of you and I want to... I want to make you feel... for me... if only a little bit.

Avallac’h groaned.

The Swallow’s heart trembled. And pearling eyelids fluttered, seeping the first ounce of the amber of the Alders into leaking brilliant green.

I’m sorry.

His eyes were half-lidded. Present, yet not. Widening, as he noticed.

I do not want to abuse you at all. Look –

Bitter smoke, fanged and warm from the elf’s breath, stung the deceitful emeralds. Forced them back into darkness resounding with her muffled coughs. Futilely. Their brilliance reawakened in spite of – destined and destiny – in the face of a hideously marked human girl.

Look, Avallac’h.

The smoke dispersed.

He looked.

Into injured greens in which his own cold aquamarines revealed their faint, hot glow. Into the precious, pink and doused shards of memory.

Into Ciri.

‘What have you done now, my foolish darling?’

---///---

In the curve of the ceiling mirror, in the faint light of oscillating fireflies, she sees herself: crucified between light and dark. Her breath catches. Running her hands through black hair, gripping the white strands as she surges – it entrances her to see herself. Comely, aware, provocative. Moving languidly and without conscience. As they look to her like two halves of a seed enclosing her. And it makes her pulse. And it makes her whimper.

The nettles strike.

To the prickling of skin, she buries her ugly, red face deep in the sheets. Her heart withering, naked as a stone under the come on her hips. It soothes the angrily flaring skin.

No more!

Only, more...

She senses she should like to be able to grow enormously small. So small they might inadvertently swallow her. Then she could lodge inside their bodies, then they would have to bear her.

Her eyes, like spring grass, shine wetly.

Clutching at broad shoulders she feels that she is turning into a small white stone. Elves like giving humans names in their own fashion. Before wiping out the rest.

---///---

‘Spread your legs.’

Even though she has waited too long and even though he says it kindly, even though he breathes it in her little round ear – it is still a command. The fingers enter her, the runes take effect, and her breath hitches.

Leaning into the hand with her pelvis she is overcome: by a tingling that rushes through her softly tormented flesh, from its first hollow to last. Twists her and rearranges. Makes her hit against the desk with sweating palms as she rolls her eyes wildly about. And whines. She whines like a little piggy on these fingers. A sensation of ephemeral... growing... itching! And everything heats up. Below the ribcage, behind the eyes. Her walls squeeze like vice around his fingers and tremble, and then she is bending and bending again and – ah-ah! – finally starts to shrink like a tiny strip of sand under waves and... waves... and waves that come and keep coming, breaking to an unruly, heated beat of her heart.

Withdrawing his instruments, a small white dove alights from the witch doctor’s glistening fingers.

Open, happy, and pink – for the moment she lies there, laughing her happiness out in little bursts. Before starting to cry. And then she cries and cries; until crying herself into a quivering ball on top of the ruined surface.

She is a grain of sand.

#tag game #wiedźmin #the witcher #avallac'h #ciri #cirillac'h #cirillach #the witcher fanfiction #if you know the story you know #aen elle

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xuelingxu · 3 months

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